


Dark Embrace

by TheSawisFamily



Category: Subspecies (1991)
Genre: AU, Dark Magic, Demon!Radu, Demon/Human Relationships, Demons, F/M, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Imbalance, Religion, Virgin Sacrifice, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24579061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSawisFamily/pseuds/TheSawisFamily
Summary: A young American tourist finds herself face to face with the demons of Prejmer after the villagers leave her a sacrifice, but the leader of darkness wishes to keep her as his own. Alternate Universe.
Relationships: Michelle Morgan/Radu Vladislas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. The Offering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesdemonaAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaAngel/gifts).



The taut rope bit into the ivory skin of her ankles, angry red lines sketched against her wrists. Goosebumps erupted on her skin, the sheer gossamer of the nightgown provided minimal protection from the icy stone slab. Twisting against the hold, Michelle screamed for help. An old crone placed a crown of laurels on her head. She mumbled an apology in a language Michelle did not understand. With a final inspection of their doomed creation, the citizens of Prejmer turned with a song on their lips.

A final cry for mercy tore from Michelle’s throat as the cheers of the villagers grew further and further away until she could hear them no longer. Smudged kohl and hot, salty tears streamed down her cheeks. Her bones ached from the drop in temperature. The draft of her bedroom in the monastery would be preferable. 

Alone in the dark and dank lair of the monster, Michelle’s mind raced with the possibilities. As a virgin sacrifice for the demons of Prejmer, would the beings ravage her before or after they took her life? How long would she endure their piercing, alien gaze scanning her body or her flesh tearing off onto their claws? Did the creatures even really exist? Did the villagers condemn her to an ancient form of execution, to starve and rot away dressed in a display of purity? And if the demons came for her, would she submit to her fate or die resisting their torture?

Michelle tore against her bounds, gritting her teeth against the burning in her extremities. No give in her restraints, the villagers did not want their offering to run off into the night. Bracing her feet against the tension of the rope, Michelle jerked her midsection into the air, ignoring the building strain in her neck. Her arms lifted just enough to create a shred of hope before being slammed back against the slab. Exhaustion consuming her after several attempts, she slumped back breathless. The white dress bunched up around her thighs. 

“God,” she begged, struggling for air, “please, help me.”

How long ago did the villagers steal her from her bed? Hours or mere minutes? 

She stiffened and slammed her eyes shut at the sound of approaching footsteps. Despite her will, her body trembled. 

The footsteps grew closer and closer until the noise ceased in front of her. She gasped. A calloused palm landed on her exposed knee. The large hand spanned the majority of her upper leg. Rough pads stroked her thigh, nails threatening to tear the gown’s hem. Michelle jerked her head away.

“Such a sweet tableau,” a voice rasped, “prepared just for me.” A harsh laugh broke in the silence of the night. “An offering from peasants.” 

Even with her eyes closed, Michelle felt his appraisal of her body. Could the demons see in the dark? Did he have blood red eyes? Or yellow? 

She stifled a sob as one claw landed on her face, talons trailing her cheek. The hand on her thigh moved to tangle in her hair. His face neared hers, cold breath tickling against her neck.“The villagers who sacrificed you will expect to find your body in the morning. Destroyed beauty on display.”

Despite his soft tone, his words projected images of her torn, bloody body discovered by dancing villagers against the morning rays of sunshine. 

Would she ever see the sun again?

He turned her face to him. “But...perhaps I prefer to toy with my new plaything first.”

She opened her eyes, vision adjusting to the dim light of the cave. In the dark, she saw only his silhouette. Her throat ached from her pleas. She swallowed, finding her voice.

“Please. Don’t hurt me.”

The figure in front of her moved forward. “Hmm. You are not from here, are you?”

She shook her head, but realized he might not be able to see. “N-no. I’m American.”

“America...you are a long way from home.” He confused and terrified her with his conversational, almost bored tone. Did demons wish to calm their victims before the attack?

She squirmed as his hands trailed down her body. “The villagers threw you away. Better a stranger than one of their own, I suppose.”

“Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name,” Michelle rapidly recited, years of childhood mass spinning in her mind. 

She blinked as she concluded. The demon’s hands gone, his figure absent from her line of sight. Her head turned from side to side. Was it really that easy? Her hands squeezed into fists as she cried, relief pouring through every cell of her being. “Oh. Thank you.” 

At that moment, Michelle decided she would never again scoff at the invitation to Sunday worship, Easter revival sessions, and even televangelists. 

The silence of the night now comforted her rather than spelled out doom. Just a few more hours and the villagers would find her untouched. No desecration, no monster, she would evacuate Romania at once and never look back.

“I am wounded by your eagerness to be apart from me.” The voice returned, this time coming from behind her. 

Dread engulfed her. “No! No!” 

Her body struggled against her bonds. “Leave me alone!”

“Did you think a few words could hurt me, dear girl? I simply amused the thought.” 

She blinked away tears and he appeared in front of her once more. An odd tenderness plagued his core. “Now, now. No tears please. My keep is not so reprehensible.” 

His knuckles brushed the criss-crossing wounds on her arms. “Your struggle, your desire to flee me, is most endearing.”

The bonds loosened as he manipulated the restraints with ease.

Her head turned to his ministrations. “What are you doing?”

“I am releasing you from the bondage of ignorant peasants.” 

She dared not to hope too dearly for mercy. “You-you are letting me go?” 

He laughed again. “So sweet. So innocent. You are a maiden?” 

Michelle’s face flushed in the night, one arm now free. Her fingers flexed. “Please don’t.”

“You need not answer. I can sense your purity. I will delight in it.” 

He appeared at her other side. Long, dexterous fingers worked to release the knot on her other arm. Willing her strength, she threw her free arm in his direction.

She shrieked as a claw enveloped her wrist. His fingers overlapped his wrist, his cold hand double the size of hers. He cocked his head. 

“Pretty one, do not fight the hand that saves you from the night. I am not the only creature who walks these halls.” 

He released her, eyes glancing down at her sprawled legs.

The demon’s face contorted into a lecherous grin. “The maiden and the monster. Yes. I believe I will treat you with special care, my pretty one.”

Both arms free, she threw herself into a sitting position. Small droplets of blood poured down her arms; the scrapes on her back stinged. She wiggled back on the altar, jerking when his fingers probed the cuts on her ankles. 

The demon ignored her protests. “You’ve made quite a mess of yourself.” He turned one leg to the side. “I will tend to your wounds when we arrive.”

Looking away from him, hoping for any salvation, she asked, “Arrive? Where?” 

“Why, my home, of course. I shall be your host.” He threw off the cord holding her right leg down. Michelle instantly recoiled the free limb up revealing the pair of cotton panties the villagers allowed her to keep, but realizing her error crossed it over the left leg. The demon noticed her ‘slip.’

“I believe that is what your kind calls a…comedy of matters, right?”

Face burning, eyes blurred, she replied, “Manners.”

“Well, it does not matter.” He waved a claw in dismissal. “I see the flesh of women nightly. Modesty is a lost art in my realm.”

He began to release the final tie. “I believe introductions are in order. Tell me your name.” 

“Why? You’re just going to kill me.”

His hands paused. “Haven’t you ever heard making personal connections makes the slaughter of innocents less pleasant?” 

She sighed, a choked noise from her throat. “Michelle. My name is Michelle.”

“Michelle, Michelle,” he rasped, savoring the syllables. “The feminine form of Michael, the archangel. Quite appropriate befitting of your status.” 

His eyes studied her and settled on the crown of laurels. She gasped when his hand shot out to remove it. Crushed stems fell onto the dirt floor as he crumpled the crown in one hand. He tossed the headdress aside. “We shall leave this for the peasants dare they return here at the break of dawn.”

The last restrained removed, he returned his gaze to her eyes. “A sign their gift was accepted.”

Michelle stumbled off the altar onto shaking and bloodied legs. She turned in every direction, contemplating a dash to safety. The demon's hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her to his side. He loosened his clutches at her startled cry of pain.

"I forget how delicate your kind is." 

Walking next to the feared beast, he surprised her with both his attempt of apology and his height. The tales of the villagers alluded to the demons of Prejmer as roaring giants who defiled young girls. Even limping due to her sores, the devil who claimed her stood the same size as her. 

She gritted her teeth as the pain in her limbs worsened, the cold and moist dirt under her feet enabling no protection. Her gown swayed as he guided her deeper in his abyss. Michelle continued walking until he came to a dead stop, looking ahead. He answered before she could question him as to why: "I fear the journey to my abode is rather long." 

The demon dropped her arm. Was he lost? Did he change his mind? Michelle pondered the wisdom in using his stillness against him. Could she run away? Should she strike him first or would he pin her against the walls of the labyrinth?

She stumbled back and shrieked when his gelid claws landed on her hips, hoisting her up. Michelle landed over his shoulder, the protrusion of his bones digging into her stomach. “Let me down! I can walk,” she whined, grabbing a fistful of his long coat. 

“Yes, you can,” he replied, shifting the added weight of her body. Her feet kicked against the frail creature carrying her. He stilled and warned her: “I have taken swords, daggers, bullets. You should preserve your strength.”

Desperation and reality setting in, Michelle’s body slouched against him like a rag doll. She cried without any tears, none left. Weak and defeated, she tried to look past her tangled brown curls dancing in front of her vision. Maybe she could memorize his pathway for later reference, for when she regained her strength. 

One of his arms enveloped her waist. “It won’t be much longer, my pet. I will allow you sanctuary.” 

Michelle’s eyes heavy, she willed herself to speak. “Sanctuary?” 

“You will have a room and sustenance. I’ll have a maid tend to you,” he paused, “or, perhaps, I will.”

She moaned her displeasure. “You never told me your name. I told you mine.”

“You wish for my introduction? Very well. I am Lord Vladislas.” He paused, thinking before continuing, “but you shall call me ‘Master.’” 

Michelle stiffened at the implications. “I will never call anyone that.”

“I see you are not so discouraged. I appreciate your fervor, but you will address me as I see fit.” 

“No.” 

He ceased movement. “No? Defying me already?”

The arm around her tightened as his free hand smacked her bottom, claw landing across the lower expanse of her body. She jerked in his hold, the impact jarring rather than hurtful. 

He patted the affected area as if soothing a tot from a nightmare or scraped knee. “I believe the saying is ‘spare the rod and spoil the child.’” 

“I am no child, Lord Vladislas.”

She could feel his head nod, his long hair brushing against her. "No, you are not.” 

And so the demon and the girl continued into the night, slipping through small cracks in the walls, descending decaying staircases, and crossing bubbling black waters on wooden bridges.


	2. Into His World

Every inch of her body ached from the struggle against her captivity to being slung over the shoulder of a beast; her eyes burned, craving the sweet release of sleep. She must have entered unconsciousness at some point because the demon had to shake her awake. 

“We have arrived, my dear.” 

The atmosphere, the air, maybe the altitude—something had changed as Lord Vladislas entered his lair. Blinking away the remnants of a disturbed rest, the hours of darkness evaporated. Candles basked the new set of tunnels in a dim light. Michelle noticed the shadow of her and the demon bouncing off the walls. He lowered her off his shoulder, her feet landing on a stone floor. 

Although his body remained in shadow, the flickering flames enabled her first view of the abode’s owner. Despite being deemed the master of the brimstone and hellfire, loose discolored skin stretched across the sharp contours of Lord Vladislas’ face. A deep crease marked the tip of his nose. No eyebrows, but he possessed a large brow ridge. Light blue eyes, almost innocent in nature, recessed into wet craters. Michelle’s mouth dropped as she stared. Framed by shoulder-length russet hair, death’s head housed two horns. Striking crimson lips contrasted against the pallor of his body. Watching her deep appraisal, he grinned, exposing sharp teeth. 

“Am I pleasing to your eye, Michelle?” 

She glanced down at his body. The unnatural shade of white continued onto his neck and claws, the only exposed parts of him. He wore a long coat over a long sleeve shirt and leather vest adorned with a ruby necklet.

“It helps to hide such unpleasantness, I believe.”

Michelle backed away. “I...what are you?” 

He cocked his head. “A demon. Didn’t the villagers fill your pretty little head with their stories?” 

“I didn’t believe them.” 

“But you do now,” he inquired, but his tone suggested it as a statement. 

She stared at the cuts on her ankles, “Yes.” 

A quiet moment passed before Lord Vladislas approached, tilting her chin up to face him. Michelle tried to decipher his expression, but failed. His eyes softened, but his teeth preened. “You must be exhausted from our journey. Allow me to show your quarters.”

He dropped her chin and stepped aside, turning his claw upright. “This way.” 

She followed the direction, thankful to be able to walk on her own even if it pained her. Michelle suppressed a shiver as his hand landed on her back. 

“We are eighty feet below your home. I created this lair myself a few hundred years ago.” 

Michelle nodded surprised at his mundane conversation. What did demons speak about other than how to demolish humanity? 

“A few hundred years?”

Lord Vladislas kept moving forward, but she saw a smile on his lips. 

“Yes. You must understand. Time means nothing here.”

A pounding beat emerged from below their feet. Her heart skipped a beat. “Are there others here?”

He nodded. “Many. This is the lair of my people.”

“Will…are they all like you?”

His arm slipped around her waist, tugging her close. “Listen to me. You are a most desired delicacy in these halls. But I am over these creatures and I will command them to keep away.” He turned his head, eyes boring into hers. “It would be unwise to wander about looking for an escape. You will not find it. But they may find you.”

She cried out as the pounding turned into a roar. Lord Vladislas’ spaced out his fingers, thumb rubbing circles on her back. “It is quiet in the quarters.” 

Reaching a dead end, Michelle stared at the dark corner. “Lord Vla-“

“Shh.” 

He removed his hand and braced both claws on the wall, dirt collecting under his nails. Placing one hand lower, he pushed. A clicking noise echoed as an absent door swung open to reveal blackness. 

“In here.” 

The warmth in the secret room relaxed her; the cold, wet air in the tunnels pressed against her chest. The door slammed shut, collapsing the hall into an absence of light. 

Wishing for his touch again, Michelle reached out for him. “Lord Vladislas?” 

“I’m here, pet.” 

Light erupted before her eyes again as Lord Vladislas held up a torch.

She blinked. “Where did that come from?”

“There are many mysteries in these caves. Maybe I will be able to reveal these to you in due time.” 

He offered his free arm to her; she accepted. 

Continuing his tour, Lord Vladislas explained: “Now, these are my private quarters. You should find no monsters other than myself lurking about.” 

Stopping again, he turned his head, keeping his body still. “And Michelle?”

“Yes?”

“I told you to call me ‘Master.’” 

Michelle struggled for a response,  
too wary to debate fighting against his rein or accepting his protection. Did it even matter? 

He answered for her: “This is a most unusual situation, but your cooperation will only help you.” 

The claustrophobic tunnel veered out into two branches. He guided her through the right turn where the roof lowered and the walls tighter. A brighter light peered from the end of the hall. The tight cavern led into a large medieval style foyer or ballroom. Gray tile replaced the primitive cave flooring and the sturdy walls expanded over their heads. A silver throne donned with a scarlet overlay, a candle lit chandelier composed of what looked like bones, and a large stone staircase filled the otherwise empty room.

“This is where most of my dealings occur. Celebrations. The only time I allow guests.” 

He placed the torch on a wall holder beside the stairwell. “Up this way.” The weight in her legs grew every step up the stairs, but she declined his offer of assistance. 

The second story divided into two hallways and another flight of the steps in the center. He led her down the hallway, which turned a corner to reveal another long expanse. At the final door on the right, Lord Vladislas stopped and turned. 

“This will be your chambers.” A claw pushed the door open. 

More gray awaited on the walls and floor. A small cot trimmed with white lace bedding sat in the corner. A desk and dresser set sat on the opposite wall. No windows and no light except for the light spilling in from the hall.

She waited for him to step inside and elaborate on the dour state, but he stood still. Michelle entered the room wanting to collapse onto the bed and dream away this unfolding nightmare, but she dared not relax around this creature. Standing in the middle of the room, she folded her arms and stared at him. 

Lord Vladislas watched her, thinking she looked rather pitiful in her torn and soiled gown, skin stained in scratches and scrapes. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, considering his own form of treatment, but her persistence still needed wittiling before any adventure of that variety. 

Mind made up, he bid her goodnight. “I will send in a maid shortly.” 

The door closed although his hands stayed at his side. Alone and in the dark again, but this time she stood in the abyss’ mansion. She lowered herself on the bed, placing her head in her hands, too tired to pry the door back open. 

Michelle’s head jerked up as the door to her room opened again, casting her in light once more. This time instead of the demon, a short elderly woman stood in the doorway, balancing a basin of water in her hands with a towel thrown over her shoulder. She entered without an introduction, leaving the door open. 

The maid deposited the basin at Michelle’s feet and the towels landed on the bed. The woman looked up and stared into Michelle’s eyes as if expecting something of her. She didn’t look like a demon. 

“Ar-do you work here?”

The maid nodded. “I work for Lord Vladislas.”

“Are you like him?”

The maid blinked. “He requested I tend to you.” She waved her hand in an upward motion. Frustrated at Michelle’s confusion, the maid gestured to the fabric of the dress. 

“You want me to take it off?”

The maid nodded. 

“Okay,” Michelle said, shakily removing the gown, which dropped to the floor. 

“Down.” The maid gestured to the bed, which Michelle understood. She declined onto the bed, propping her head on the solo pillow. 

The maid retrieved a towel and dampened it in the soapy water before wringing out the excess. She scrubbed the filth of Michelle’s excursion away, mindful of the developing bruises and tears. For each portion of Michelle’s body, the maid discarded the old towel and replaced it. 

Once complete with the front of her body, the maid gestured for her to turn over. The bed bath would be humiliating to Michelle if she didn’t feel so weary. Turning back over at the end of the scrubbing, the maid dipped a small wash cloth and handed it to Michelle. 

Michelle stood up, washing her face, the pools of kohl marking the rag. The maid stripped the now tarnished linens. Gathering the towels, gown, and bedding, the maid retreated to the door. “I will bring replacements.” 

And back into darkness. Michelle crossed her arms across her chest just in case the demon returned. She stumbled over to the direction of the dress, but stumbled into the basin, splashing water on the floor. 

“Shit,” she muttered. Redirecting herself, Michelle held her hands out to feel. At the dresser, she tugged open the top drawer. Her hands landed on some soft material. How many other girls occupied this room before her?

The maid returned, revealing the garments to be more white gowns much like the one she lost. Michelle stepped away. 

“Is there...company here often.” 

The maid pushed the bundle of linens onto the dresser. Michelle decided the woman would not answer, but the woman spoke. “Perhaps you should ask Lord Vladislas. Here.” She handed over a gown. 

Michelle pulled the dress over her head and worked the tangles out of her hair as the maid made the bed. No mirror in the room, but Michelle imagined she looked better than she had when first entering the lair. 

“It is late,” the maid remarked, finishing the bed dressing. Michelle nodded and approached. 

The woman made the move to leave. “The master of this house will relay further instruction of your care to me.” 

Michelle doubted her plea would work, but asked anyway: “May I know your name, please?” After all, Lord Vladislas encouraged introductions. 

The woman paused. “Nadine.”

“Thank you for helping me, Nadine. I’m Michelle. Michelle Morgan.”

“Yes, well, good night, Ms. Morgan.”


	3. Dawn

The clanking of Nadine’s metal cart roused Michelle from a dreamless sleep. Michelle’s eyes burned from tears and sudden adjustment to light. The hours of unconsciousness provided little healing to her pains. She assumed it was morning judging by the breakfast tray and the small change in light. No windows or light fixtures, but the severity of the darkness lessened.

“Lord Vladislas sent a few things,” Nadine explained. On the cart lay a plate and glass on a tray, as well as a hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a small basin of water. Michelle pushed the comforter away and inspected the food—a slice of toast with jam and a glass of milk. Not much sustenance, especially after such a strenuous evening she thought, but Michelle ate anyway. 

The maid watched her for a moment, unmoving before turning away. 

“Can you leave the door open? Just a little?” 

“The master of this house does not wish for me to do so.” The door slammed behind her before Michelle could ask her next question.

Michelle sighed. Was she to be starved and ravished in this room?

She finished the excuse of a meal in under a minute now regretting not accepting seconds at dinner. Her stomach coiled at the thought of being in the monastery where she spent the last week cataloging the lore of the citizens of Prejmer. 

Following her passion for folklore, especially of that based out of Eastern Europe, Michelle applied for an experience-based transfer study program. Upon her arrival in the small Romanian village, Michelle noticed their scrutinizing looks and reluctance to speak to her, yet she placed their odd behavior on cultural differences. 

Her roommate at the monastery, Mara, explained that the locals naturally avoided outsiders as part of their customs. Michelle did not find it strange when the people of Prejmer embraced Mara's presence over hers. Mara spoke their language and hailed from a community only a few hours away. While Michelle expected the peasants to revel in tales of strigoi and moroi, they surprised her with the telling of Prejmer demons. The demons said to be giant, monstrous beings came out of their caves, which connected to the underworld, to snatch up young girls wandering around at night and kill livestock. Only a routine sacrifice kept the demons away from wreaking havoc. 

Michelle sipped the milk, careful not to cause a stomach ache. Her supper at the monastery appeared normal. Little conversation was said, but everyone seemed relaxed. Mara smiled as the caretaker's assistants silently flirted with each other. The dinner tasted bland, but Michelle’s diet consisted mostly cereal and canned food back home in America. Now thinking back, she wondered if her dinner guests knew what the villagers planned. Did they slip something in her meal to weaken her before they grabbed her out of bed? 

Pushing her plate aside, Michelle grabbed the hairbrush. She wished for a nice, warm shower to detangle her knotted hair. Teeth gritting, she worked out small bits of dirt. Her mother chided her tender head. Michelle wondered if her parents would be alerted to her disappearance. Would the villagers claim she never arrived or maybe that she went on an ill-fated voyage against their advice? 

Michelle sat the hairbrush on the cart and washed her face. A building pressure in her bladder alerted her to unmet needs. Dare she venture outside the room now with a legitimate excuse? Finishing her preparation for the day, Michelle brushed her teeth and stored the brushes and paste in the drawer. 

She tried the door, which did not budge. The rising tension of the previous night’s events building, Michelle pressed against the door, hands slamming against the masonry. 

“Nadine? Nadine!” 

Her body stumbled back at the force of the door opening on the opposite side. Lord Vladislas stood in the doorway, a questioning look on his face. 

“Are you being disagreeable this morning?” 

“Let me out of here!” 

“I do not possess the time nor the inclination to provide a tour. I came here only to see if your needs were met.”

“They were not. I need a bathroom. And that breakfast. They serve better in prisons.” 

“I will have a word with the maid.” He examined her. “Your physical state is better than last night, but your emotional—“

“I need a bathroom,” she repeated.

“I see. Are you too steadfast to use the chamber pot?”

Michelle scoffed. “I didn’t see one, but even if I did—“

“If you agree to obey me, I shall reward you with this request. But for now, you need to rest.”

“I just woke up.”

“And you still look rather pitiful,” he said, “but improved.”

Michelle stared at the metal cart. 

The demon noticed her reverie. “Are you wishing for a savior to release you from my care?”

Snapping out of it, Michelle folded her arms across her chest. “How many women have been in my place?” 

He rested against the doorframe. “Does it matter? You are here with me.”

She glared. “For how long?”

His teeth exposed, he grinned. “For how long, indeed? I suppose it depends on you.” Lord Vladislas examined her crossed legs. “The chamber pot is under the bed.”

“Well, I am not using it in front of you.” 

He shrugged. “It is not of my particular interest, but I could bring in some of my friends.” 

“I will not be controlled by your threats, Vladislas.” 

“Would you prefer my hands?”

Without thinking, she flew across the room. Her cell. 

Michelle snatched up the abandoned breakfast tray, the cup and plate shattering across the floor. 

Lord Vladislas straightened. “Are you ma-“

Clutching the tray, knuckles turning white, Michelle charged him, shards cutting into her feet. Lord Vladislas raised his hands to capture her arms, but the tray struck him. The demon groaned as the metal connected to his head. 

Michelle heard the clinging of the tray as it slipped from her hands as she ran passed the demon. Lord Vladislas turned and growled. 

She ran down the hallway and turned the corner. Resting against the wall, she pulled out the shards digging into her soles. 

“Shit,” she muttered, as pain shot up her foot from the removal of glass. Michelle glanced around the corner, but Vladislas did not charge down the hallway as she feared. Had she actually hurt him enough to stun him? Testing her gait, Michelle planted both feet to the cold floor. Confident in her ability, she continued down the hall and came out to the split in the second level. 

Her head turned to the stairwell, leading to a new floor. Technically, it would bring her closer to above ground, but what if it trapped her? Best to take the way she entered, Michelle decided. 

Rushing down the stairs leading to the center room, Michelle tripped over the long hem of her nightgown. Her knee slammed into the cold stone step before the rest of her body sprawled out, leg twisted.

Bracing her scraped palms, Michelle inched her aching leg back into normal position. She reached blindly for the railing, eyes trained on accessing the damage her body obtained in the fall. Raising her body up, she caught herself before she collapsed again when her leg bucked. Michelle staggered down the rest of the stairwell before picking up the hem of her dress to dash as well as she could with a limp. 

Vladislas appeared to be taking his sweet time. The noise of her ragged breathing and the padding of her feet against the tile floor echoed in her head. Remembering the approaching darkness, Michelle removed the still-burning torch from its holder before she crouched down to enter the small cavern opening. 

Now in the cramped cave system again, she navigated her hand along the ridges of the walls. Her back ached from the awkward angling required to move through the tunnel while her legs needed stabilizing. Michelle choked back a cough as the air turned damp again. 

Pulling herself out of the tight canal, Michelle stood back to her full height now back to a decent ceiling size. She cast the torch over her two choices of tunnels. One led back to her starting point, her altarpiece. The other led to the great unknown, which according to Lord Vladislas housed monsters beyond his savagery. She bit her lip. Freedom and death now stood at a crossroads, an equal chance. 

Begging internally for God to spare her from any future mistakes, she turned left. The light grew less and less, but each step brought her closer to the above ground. Her world. If successful, Michelle decided right then and there she would never leave her native country again, let alone her home state. This excursion into darkness gave her more than enough adventure for this lifetime. Michelle ignored the burning in her knee, the sensation of blood drizzling down her calf. 

She coughed, the moist air tingling in her lungs. The smell of dirt and mildew overwhelmed her nostrils. Did it rain? Could water from the above fall here? Michelle followed close to the wall of the labyrinth, leaning some of her weight towards the mounds. Dirt crumbled onto her dress. 

Michelle stopped. Suddenly breathless and lethargic, she sank against the wall. Her scratched and bloodied legs trembled while her stomach growled. The allotted breakfast portion ran its course long ago. Goosebumps trailed up her arms as she shivered. Even with the small comfort of the torch, the atmosphere of the catacombs bit through her thin nightgown. 

She stilled at a loud banging noise. Lord Vladislas? His demon recruits on a freelance journey to ravage her? Michelle staggered back up and continued walking although she stopped every few steps. The thumping approached. Had the demons of Prejmer sensed her flight or their master’s injury? 

Michelle struggled through the caves with monsters at her heels. Exiting the devil’s den felt longer than the entrance, Michelle thought. 

Her brown eyes blinked in disbelief. The tunnel came to an abrupt end. Michelle’s free hand patted the looming dirt wall. Had she missed a turn off point? Did she take the wrong tunnel?

She screamed, body jerking in reflex as a loud roar filled through the caverns, echoing into the night. Or was it even night? Didn’t she just have breakfast? Was she to be the breakfast for the monsters approaching? 

The terror must have jogged her memory because she then remembered Lord Vladislas’ secret passageway. Her nails pried the dirt wall for purchase. An uneven breath escaped her. Where was the damn mechanism? Using only one hand only made the search even more demanding. The light of the flame provided only enough illumination. 

Steeling her resolve, Michelle began digging more fervently. She might come out filthy, tattered, bloodied and with a serious cold, but she would escape this hell alive. 


End file.
